Post navigation

Nuxe spa

I had been to three spas now, and I still had that charming black head just left of center on the tip of the nose. It was turning out to be as stubborn as I was. This week, I decided to see an expert for the face at the day spa by Nuxe.

Nuxe has been in Paris for a long time, but it was only in 1989 that Aliza Jabès purchased the company and started modernizing it for today’s woman; a girl with a career and kids who runs around the city in her heels and deserves a true blend of Nature and lUXE; NUXE.

I arrived late, sweating and stressed, tumbling out of a taxi at the top of the rue de Montorgueil, a bustling pedestrian street with food vendors and shoppers filling the space, the Carrera marble paving stones the only hint of luxury.

I barged into the shop announcing my arrival and my apologies in my silly accent and the women greeted me calmly, with a forgiving smile. I was immediately put at ease. But I had an appointment in a spa and this was a shop. I was sure I’d made some kind of blunder. I hadn’t, for hidden beyond the tiny boutique is a full-blown spa on several levels.

It’s a beautiful space, and I was tempted to dive into their small Watsui massage pool, but instead I was led outside, next door beyond an nostalgically Parisian gate, into a stone paved courtyard and up some steps to sliding glass doors that opened on to another world. A large Bedouin style tent graced the hall, as if I’d crossed oceans to another continent. Flying even further East, we headed downstairs to the vaulted basement that was fitted with an inspiring zen décor. There were no changing rooms. Your spacious treatment room has everything you need, including a heated bed. It was perfect.

I lay myself down, trusting the assured hands of my esthetician who immediately set to work, again telling me that I have excessively dry, sensitive skin. Half way through the treatment I remembered to tell about the reason for my visit. Mr Black. I explained how three professionals before her had been unable to get it to budge. “Ah, bon?” she shrugged nonchalantly, “Its gone.”

I was shocked. I’d never even felt her digging in. Then I was thrilled. It was gone (I spent the next few days reveling in the feeling of its absence) and I was to happy I could here church bells ringing out the joyful news throughout my body. The treatment ended with a scalp massage so divine it put me to sleep and before I knew it I was upstairs sipping a tea, my face clean at last.